


all the earth has borne beguiles us

by problematiquefave



Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: When Morgana asks Arthur to scope out a potential wedding venue, he doesn't expect to find more than that. Enter Nimue.
Relationships: Arthur/Nimue (Cursed)
Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859875
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11
Collections: AUgust 2020





	all the earth has borne beguiles us

“So, we’ve been looking at venues…” Morgana started, her voice crackling across their phone connection. Arthur shifted his phone against his ear, trying to hear her better.

“Still thinking of a Church wedding?”

“No.” There was a soft sound, a bit like a sigh. He frowned. Although Morgana oft-lamented her childhood in catholic boarding school, the place shaped her into who she was and was where she met Celia. Although she’d never explicitly said it, he knew how much a church wedding would’ve meant to her. “Abbess Nora was trying to help us but it just—It just wasn’t working. So, we branched out.”

Picking at a piece of lint on his shirt, he asked, “And did you find something?”

“Yes, actually.” The momentary sadness was shaken from her voice. “It’s called _Dewdenn Ranch_. You should look it up online – it’s so beautiful, like something out of a storybook.”

He hummed. “Give me a minute and I will,” he said, pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear as he reached for his laptop. He logged in, opened his browser, and typed in the name she’d given him. Despite Google informing him that it was spelled with two n’s instead of one, it gave him the right result.

The pictures showed lush green trees, rustic buildings, stone paths through colorful gardens, and a glimmering lake. Out of a storybook indeed.

“It looks nice.”

“It really does,” she said. “It’d be perfect for us, I think. Which is where you come in handy.”

He raised his brows. “I do?”

“Mm-hmm. See, Hawksbridge is a lot closer to Dewdenn than London is. Celia and I were wondering if you’d check it out for us?”

“I’d be honored, sister.”

“Great!” Even over the phone, her excitement warmed him. “We’ll email you with some dates soon, alright?”

“Of course.”

As Morgana had promised, she emailed him with dates the day after. Two weeks later, he was pulling into _Dewdenn Ranch’s_ parking lot – a field of patchy grass and haphazardly strewn gravel – and killing the engine to his car. He sucked in a deep breath of clean air as he stepped out of the car, closing his eyes as sun warmed his skin. Opening his eyes again, he slammed the car door shut and scanned the area for a sign pointing to the office. The signpost was like something out of a fantasy movie, with the locations etched into wooden arrows.

It was a brief hike to the office, the path there doing nothing to contradict the pictures he’d seen online. The door to the office – which was more of a cottage than anything else – was bright red. He knocked on it and then stepped back.

A woman, not much younger than him, answered. Blue eyes peered curiously at him, brown hair falling to her chest. “Can I help you?” she asked.

A lopsided grin split his face. “I’m here for an appointment?”

She nodded. “And what’s your name?”

“Arthur,” he answered. “Here to scope the place out for my sister’s wedding.”

She leaned away from the door, although he could still see her. Craning his head to get a better look, he could see that she was rifling through papers. “Wedding of Morgana and Celia?”

“That’s the one.”

Turning back to him, she shot him a small, slightly nervous smile. “Sorry, there’s not much space in here but, if you wait a moment, I can show you around.”

Nodding, he clasped his hand behind his back as the door eased shut. Looking at the ground, he went over all the things in his head that Morgana had told him to look out for. She hadn’t needed him to ask many questions – just look for anything out of the ordinary – but she’d requested he facetime her when he got to the ceremony room.

The creaking hinges of the door distracted him from his thoughts. The woman stepped out, holding a clipboard with one hand and holding her other out for him to shake. “I’m Nimue,” she said. “My mother owns this place.”

He took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. It’s a lovely place.”

When he released her hand, she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before letting it drop to her side. “It’s been in our family for generations. We’re extremely proud of it.” She jerked her head to the side. “C’mon. The main building is this way.”

He followed her a step behind, so his larger strides didn’t overtake hers. They returned to the main path he’d taken to get to the office. “Is the no parking closer to the building?”

She glanced back at him, a ray of sun resting across her face. The light made it impossible not to acknowledge how beautiful she was.

“No, but we provide golf carts to ferry people back and forth.”

“Do you provide staff for that?”

“We do. It’s built into the cost of renting the venue.”

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. She turned away from him. In all, it wasn’t that far but he was both sober and not wearing heels. Come the actual event, transportation would be appreciated.

The main building was much larger than the office but retained the same quaint, cottage vibes. A dense flower bed was maintained next to the entrance; breathing as he walked by it, his nostrils were filled with sweetness.

“How many gardens does this place have?” he asked as she held the door open for him.

“A number of them,” she said with a single chuckle. “The flower gardens are located where the guests will see them. We also have an herb garden, a vegetable garden – which we provide caterers with access too, and a poison garden which we keep gated.”

“Impressive.”

She shrugged. “Another thing we’ve been doing for generations. Supposedly, some of my ancestors were healers. They’re nice to tend to either way.”

“Even the poison garden?”

She bit her lip, like she was trying to hide a laugh or wider smile. “Yes, even that. A bit beyond the average gardener’s skill sets but I’ve been able to recite the safety instructions in my sleep since I was a kid.”

“I’d love to see it.”

She searched his face before saying, “Maybe if we have time after the tour, I can show it to you.”

“Then I guess we should get on with this.”

Right inside the doors was a large seating area; she explained that most weddings had their guests wait there before the ceremony. There were three paths to take out of the seating area; a set of double doors to the ceremony space and two hallways, one which led to bride and groom suits and one that led to the dining and reception space.

They took the hallway to the right; she gave him details that went over his head but that he’d try to remember for Morgana later. He also snapped pictures and sent them to his sister. Since he had to facetime her for the ceremony space, they checked out the reception area first. Nimue explained ways it could be set up but he cut her off when she started telling him about catering.

“Save it for the emails with my sister,” he said with a small laugh.

“Noted.” His brows shot up as she jotted it down on her clipboard.

As they entered the ceremony space, he craned his head to get a better view – the vaulted ceilings, the faded, floral rug on the wooden floors. It was a blank canvas now but he could envision what it’d be like. Rows of people, hanging lights, Nora waiting to officiate. And of course, the lucky brides to be. He’d already bet Morgana thirty pounds that he’d start crying before her.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her, grinning as his sister and Celia appeared on his screen. He turned his camera to pan around the room, pointing it at Nimue when they had questions for her. She was calm and collected under the weight of their interrogation, not missing a beat with each question. When they were satisfied, he bid them goodbye and turned to Nimue.

“Do that a lot?” he asked.

A snort escaped her. “I don’t know why mother thinks I’m the best for these tours but I won’t argue with her.”

He tilted his head to the side. “What would you rather be doing?”

“Working with the animals. Or in the gardens,” she added.

“Do we still have time for that?” he asked, pulling out his phone. “It’s 2:13.”

A smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Plenty of time.”

Leading him away from the main building, and the gardens set up for wedding pictures, they stopped in front of a wrought-iron fence. Nimue produced a ring of keys from her belt, picking out a silver one to open up the gate. She waved him in and closed the gate behind them.

She reached into a wooden box, pulling out two sets of leather gloves – one of which she handed to him. “Keep those on and don’t touch yourself while wearing them – not your eyes, not your skin, not even your clothing.”

“That dangerous?”

She shook her head. “Not for the most part; most poisonous plants are mild irritants at best, fatal to ants but we’re a bit heartier than that. Still, it’s not nice to get it in your eyes, and if you’re allergic to something...” Although she trailed off, he understood what she was saying. “Also, I don’t recommend touching anything else – but you’re not a kid, so I don’t think need to spell out why.”

“Poison is bad for you. Don’t touch it. Got it,” he said, winking. Arthur turned his head, scanning the garden. It significantly less colorful than the flower gardens; he was unlikely to be able to differentiate any of these from the weeds in his backyard. “What of these is the most dangerous?”

She hummed. “Depends. This—” She points at a patch of plants, starting towards them. “This is Ricinus communis. In a lab, you can extract ricin it – deadliest poison in the world, but actual poisonings are relatively rare.”

She points towards another plant. This one had dark purple flowers; the same color could be seen on the tips of its leaves. “Deadly nightshade. Native here to the UK, four berries are enough to kill a child. So, not only deadly, but easier to access.”

“I’ve heard about it in old fairy tales. I didn’t know it was native here.”

She nodded. “Speaking of old things, look over here.” The plant she led him to this time was one he’d actually seen before. It had white, trumpet like flowers.

“This is poisonous?” he asked, cocking a brow.

“Remember, not all poisons will kill you,” she pointed out. “This is angel’s trumpet – in the Victorian era, ladies would sprinkle some of its pollen into another lady’s tea to loosen her tongue because it has a mild hallucinogenic effect.”

“Like a truth serum?”

“I don’t know about that,” she said with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t know how effective it was, but I guess that was the intention.”

He grinned. “Never tried it?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I generally don’t test my luck with the plants in here. But”—she turned, looking back in the direction they’d come—“even some of these have medicinal effects. Sure, you can extract ricin from _Ricinus communis_ , but you can also extract an alcohol from the leaves that’s been demonstrated to protect rats from certain poisons. These plants are dangerous but they’re more than that too.”

His grin didn’t fade – only soften – as she spoke. Her knowledge and passion were as beautiful as she was. Before he realized what he was doing, the words were already spilling out.

“Will I see you again?”

Her brows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m being forward. I just meant, talking with you has been nice and I’d like to again.”

His stomach twisted as he waited for her response, made worse by his inability to read her expression.

“I could—” She swallowed, wetting her lower lip. “I could give you my number? I liked talking to you too.” She glanced down at the angel’s trumpet. “Most people think this is weird.”

He laughed. “If it’s weird, I like it. Here—” He paused as he reached for his phone. “I should take my gloves off, shouldn’t I?”

The skin around her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, probably. C’mon.”

They walked back to the box; she showed him how to get the gloves off without touching the fingers. Then she turned on spigot and directed him to wash off his hands. He pulled his phone out as he waited for her to do the same.

“Here,” he said, holding his phone out to her as she straightened up. He’d opened it to the new contact page.

She filled in her information and handed it back. “I don’t have my personal phone on me but text me later?”

He smiled. “Definitely.”

They walked together back towards the main path. There was a hint of pink in her cheeks when they parted ways at the fork towards the office. When he climbed back in his car, he shot off a quick text before even thinking about starting the engine. By the time he was home, she’d responded.

Later, when he told Morgana of how the day had gone, he shrugged off her teasing about stealing her venue. Which didn’t happen, and he _did_ cry before his sister, but he’d brought Nimue as his date and she was waiting for him with tissues when the ceremony finished.

**Author's Note:**

> interesting fact: i was completely stumped on what to do AUgust's farm/ranch prompt. then i finished cursed late one night, sat down the next morning to write a different fic, and 2000 words of this came out instead.
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> [my tumblr.](https://problematiquefics.tumblr.com/)


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